


Tell me who you are... and who you were

by AliaMael



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Amnesia, Canon Compliant, Except for A New Day I only use canon from the original game not the Final Remix, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25596469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliaMael/pseuds/AliaMael
Summary: For Neku, it was just a cool bit of homework.For Sanae, it was a kick to the guts.
Relationships: Hanekoma Sanae & Sakuraba Neku
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	Tell me who you are... and who you were

Opening up to others was sometimes overwhelming. It was then that Neku put his headphones back on his ears, but he refused to fall back to his old patterns of behavior. Habits die hard, after all. So when he desperately wanted to hide in his room to be _alone_ , he forced himself to instead go to WildKat.

The café was almost always devoid of customers, and Mr H knew not to push him more than he could take, so it gave him the calm and isolation he needed without cutting him totally from the outside world. As far as compromises went, it was the perfect one. 

He also went when his friends were busy, even if it was not often that they were busy _without him_. Mr H was an unending source of unwanted (but precious) life advice, and was always ready to help Neku with his art.

Even if Neku sometimes froze upon remembering that he was talking to _CAT_ , Mr H carefree attitude always broke the tension before things got too awkward. It was… comfortable.

Neku wasn't used to being comfortable around people, even less around what was kinda an authority figure. More or less. "Mentor" was maybe more exact, but he didn't dare hope that Mr H was indeed seeing him as a protégé. But even with that incertitude, it felt nice.

Neku's art was improving by leaps and bounds, which was a nice side effect.

So when Neku signed up for art classes, it was only natural to bring his homework to WildKat to discuss it with Mr H. The conversations were insightful, even if Neku sometimes had to carefully keep them out of his mind when he was back in front of his teacher –CAT had some words of choice about too rigid views of art.

Some assignments were a bit boring, others eye-opening. And then there was that presentation to give in front of the whole group. Each student had to pick an artist from any medium and talk about their work, but they were forbidden to pick a Japanese one. It was, quote unquote, to force them to discover new artistic movements. Neku was a bit disappointed he couldn't work on CAT, even if that would have been cheating in a sense. But well, the teacher was right, it was forcing him out of his comfort zone.

Expanding his world and all that stuff, once again.

Hours of research on other countries graffiti artists later, he stumbled upon a picture that caught his eye. The tag was very different from what he saw in Shibuya –no wonder since it was from the 80's in France– but he could feel some similarities nonetheless. Especially with CAT's work.

Which was how he found himself in WildKat with a pile of documents from the school printer and at least as many questions. Mr H looked faintly amused by the stack of paper Neku put down on the counter.

"Found something interesting?"  
"Yeah… I think I found the artist I want to make my presentation on, but I really wanted to talk to you about it."  
"Oh?"

Mr H was now giving him his full attention, which always made Neku a bit nervous (OK, maybe he was _not_ over his fanboying toward CAT, but he would deny it to the moon and back).

"I… OK, I was looking at graffiti artists, and I found this pic."

He pulled the correct page out of the pile and slid it toward Mr H.

"I find it kinda close to your style. Well, I mean, of course it's different, but, well, you know, it's–"  
"Breathe," Mr H smiled.  
"… I feel silly saying it out loud, but it feels a bit like your art but without Shibuya."

There was a silence while Mr H looked at the picture of the old graffiti.

"It's from a French artist," Neku eventually added. "I won't even try to pronounce his name but it's written here," he pointed to another page. "I didn't manage to find much about him because, well, he's not that well-known so there are very few pages about him and I barely manage to read the English ones…"

He trailed off. Mr H was still staring at the first pic.

"Did I say something stupid?" Neku asked, growing uncomfortable.  
"Hmm? Oh, no, not at all. It's… you're right, it looks a bit like my art. Do you have more?"

Neku spread the pics on the counter.

"This is his signature," he pointed on the closest page. "A pair of wings. I have no idea why."  
"Deux ailes…" Mr H whispered distractedly.  
"Uh?"

Mr H slowly traced the wings on the picture.

"Deux ailes," he repeated louder. "It's French for 'two wings', but it's also pronounced exactly the same way as 'two L', the letter. That's his initials. Léon Laforêt, LL."

Neku stared, bewildered.

"I didn't know you spoke French."

Neku wondered if he imagined it, but for half a second he could have sworn that Mr H froze. His usual lazy grin belied it, though.

"Hey, I have to keep some surprises! What about my mysterious aura?"

Only one month ago, Neku would have bought it. But with the amount of time he spent at the café, he could tell that Mr H was overdoing it.

"… so could you help me with my research on French websites or would that not be mysterious enough?" he asked.

Mr H laughed. It was just a _tiny_ bit off.

"I'll help you Phones don't worry. What do you have so far?"

Hmm. Didn't sound like a "I'm deliberately hiding something from you". More like a "I'm uncomfortable". And wow, since when Mr H did "uncomfortable"?

"Not much," Neku admitted. "I found only pics of his tags, not the artist. All the tags are from the 80's. The site where I found his name seemed to imply he stopped street art suddenly."  
"Hmm. Well, let's hope French pages have more info for you!"

Neku stared at Mr H. His cheer was slightly too forced to sound genuine. And he seemed magnetized by the pics of the tags. Not that Neku had never seen him fascinated or impressed by the work of other people, but usually that meant a stream of insightful commentary, not that weirdly heavy _silence_.

"Do you have time to start now or do you want me to come back later?" Neku asked anyway.

He wondered if he would have to repeat himself, but then Mr H answered.

"Go turn the sign on the door to 'closed', I'll boot up the computer in the workshop."

Neku hurried to obey and grabbed his documents on the way back. He stopped for a few seconds, looking at the wings that had so fascinated Mr H. Now that his attention was fully on them, he felt like he was missing something that should be pretty obvious.

He frowned, then slowly followed the shapes with his finger. It was… familiar, somehow?

Then it hit him, and he instantly looked up to see if Mr H was still in the room. He was alone. Had Mr H seen the same thing in that design? If so it probably explained why he was acting so off.

Due to their stylization, the wings were very, _very_ close in shape to the hands of the cat mascot CAT regularly put on his tags.

Neku slowly made his way to the workshop. The general similitude in style. These closely related signatures. Mr H knowing not only French but also the hidden meaning of the wings. The easy conclusion would be that Mr H had been inspired to the point of copying, but his reaction didn't match _at all_. (He wasn't the type to be a copycat, either.) The picture it seemed to paint was so unlikely, but still… was it possible?

When he joined him, Mr H had recovered his (rebuilt his facade of?) nonchalance.

"You're lucky, I found you a chair not buried under art supplies," he joked.  
"Thanks god," Neku deadpanned.

He sat next to Mr H and watched him setup his research to return French results. Soon, Neku was utterly lost in a sea of foreign words with only the name of his artist appearing from time to time to remind him that they were indeed on track.

Then Mr H stopped scrolling to stare at the screen without a word. Neku glanced at him and did a double-take. Mr H had turned white as a sheet.

"Mr H? What's wrong?"  
"He… he died. He stopped tagging 'cause he died." Then he added, barely audible: "He got hit by a car."

Given the haunted look in Mr H's eyes, Neku was ready to bet the cause of death was not written on the page.

And how Neku could understand him.

"Mr H? You're alright. It's gonna be OK."

Mr H turned to him, his confusion obvious, which was very unlike him. Then a weak smile found its way to his lips.

"Can relate, eh?"  
"Well, you know it. You were there."

Mr H took a deep breathe. Color crept back on his cheeks.

"I'm sorry I exposed you to this," Neku said, feeling guilty.  
"Not your fault, Phones. You couldn't have known." A pause. " _I_ didn't even know."  
"That's kinda the point of having memories missing," Neku remarked.  
"Yeah…"

Mr H's eyes slid back to the screen.

"I'll find another artist for my homework," Neku said. "You don't need to go through this."

He got a glance in his direction.

"Need I remind you how much you wanted to get back _everything_?" Mr H asked.  
"… no."

It still felt wrong to use this for his classes, but Neku understood why Mr H would rather go on reading.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked.

Mr H looked down. Suddenly he seemed very vulnerable, which was all _wrong_. But if on one hand Neku felt a bit lost at seeing his idol so… humanly flawed, on the other hand he was surprised by a surge of protectiveness. 

This was not how their relationship worked, but maybe the shift would not be a _bad_ thing.

"Stay? Please?" Mr H finally answered.

Neku moved his chair a bit closer. He didn't think he was imagining the way Mr H's shoulders relaxed slightly.

"Thanks, Phones."  
"No problem."

Mr H closed his eyes for a few seconds, then brought his focus back on the screen.

"Alright. Léon Laforêt. Born in 1956 in Grenoble –that's in the South-East of France… you're not taking notes?"

Neku startled.

"I… no? It doesn't feel… respectful?"  
"… I appreciate the sentiment. Really. But let's be real, if you could have done your presentation on CAT, you would have, am I wrong?"  
"You're not, but it's not the same!"

A silence.

"I mean," Neku went on hesitantly, "you're comfortable with CAT. This is… personal in a way CAT is _not_. I think."  
"And you're right. I… I just have a hard time processing this," Mr H admitted.  
"If talking about it helps, I'm all ears. But no, I won't take notes. This is not about my homework. It's… it's about you," Neku ended bashfully.

For an instant, Mr H smiled at him like if everything was fine.

"I'm proud of you Phones."

Neku felt himself blush and tried to hide in his cowl. After a few seconds, Mr H went back to his reading and translation.

The page Mr H had found didn't say anything about Léon Laforêt's childhood. He apparently moved to Paris at age 16, began working at 18 –"A bar. Guess some things never really change, only evolve..."– and became interested in street art after seeing the works of [Blek le Rat](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blek_le_Rat) in the early 80's. Then it was a list of known works from Léon –he had not been popular while alive, but was now recognized as simply too avant-garde– and a year of death: 1988.

"All of this… It sounds right, but it doesn't mean I _remember_ it."  
"But you remember your death."

Mr H shivered.

"Yeah."  
"… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have–"  
"It's OK. I mean… of course it's… unsettling, but it's also the one thing proving me that I'm not imagining all of this."  
"Do you think you lost your memories as your Entry Fee?"

Mr H considered the question.

"Nah. I don't remember anything before Shibuya. I would remember my Game if it was my Entry Fee."  
"… how come you're in Shibuya anyway? Shouldn't you be in France? You… you don't even _look_ French!"

Mr H smirked.

"In the UG, bodies are not so immutable as you're trained to think. Remember Shiki."  
"… point taken. But still."  
"Honestly, I don't know. As I said, I don't remember. But I guess some details make a bit more sense now."  
"Uh?"  
"Well, Gatito. It's actually a Spanish word. And WildKat is German. Feels more logical to be familiar with several European languages now that I know… all of this."  
"… I guess, yeah."  
"Also, someone had either a weird sense of humor or a compulsion to repeat patterns, and I have no clue if that's on me or not."

Neku was glad to see Mr H more relaxed. He doubted it would be so easy –he remembered how difficult dealing with missing memories had been for him– but it was a good start.

"Do I want to know?" he asked.

Mr H ticked on his fingers.

"Laforêt means 'the forest'. I have the kanji for 'sapling' in my name, seems close enough to me. Then this 'two wings' thing? Now I have 'feather'. Two guesses for the meaning of Léon."  
"… cat?"  
"Not exactly, but close."  
"Uh… It's some kind of feline, right?"  
"Yeah. It means 'lion'."  
"… so basically you kept every idea but smaller," Neku pointed.

Mr H laughed, and maybe it was a bit due to tension bleeding out, but it made Neku smile anyway.

"Now I have a legitimate reason to ask you to make French toast," Neku teased.  
"Hey, I already serve bouillabaisse!"  
"… that's French?"

Mr H nodded.

"Now that I think about it, I don't remember learning how to make it, so I guess it's from _before_."

He turned thoughtful again, and Neku desperately looked for a way to bring back the discussion to lighter topics. Every idea felt overly clumsy, but how were you supposed to deal with that kind of experience anyway? When he had been the one without memory or with a black hole surrounding the circumstances of his death, he had not had _time_ to linger on it, too busy fighting for his and Shiki's lives. But Mr H certainly had all the time needed to torture himself by prodding at the topic.

"… want to look at my last sketches?" he finally settled on.

Mr H looked up, surprised, then smiled.

"Sure. And… thanks."

Neku used the excuse of going to grab his sketchbook to hide his blush. Not that Mr H was deceived, judging by his knowing grin.

Neku ended up staying at WildKat as late as a dared to push, trying to keep Mr H busy. And when he left he "accidentally" forgot the pictures of the tags. He wouldn't need them anymore, but he could feel that Mr H would appreciate having them.

He had to pick another artist for his homework of course, but he didn't care. He would gladly research someone less to his immediate taste; the point was, after all, to get out of his comfort zone. And it suddenly felt less important anyway.

He tried to come to the café even more often than usual for the following weeks, and congratulated himself on that choice when sometimes Mr H would go silent and melancholic, but when he got a plate of French toast put in front of him, Mr H grinning behind the counter, he knew it was both a 'thank you' and a sign all would be alright.


End file.
